Cafe Patachou

At the original Cafe Patachou, a “student union for adults,” the cinnamon toast is still as thick as a brick, the omelets still have cheeky names (“Hippie with a Benz,” “The Omelette You Can’t Refuse”), and the broken-yolk sandwiches still lure ’em in for lunch. The thing to try these days is the PB&J topped with bacon and jalapeño (on sourdough, for sure); complete with the peppers’ pith and seeds, it may evoke a mini version of the St. Elmo shrimp-cocktail experience.

Its two locations draw from strikingly different Pinterest boards: The original Broad Ripple nook resembles an elegantly faded Rive Gauche cafe, while the newer, more polished Petite Chou, built along one of the tidy cul-de-sacs of Clay Terrace, spares no fandangle.